Standing on the far side of the room, she doesn’t hear me when I enter. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her gaze staring through the window somewhere in the distance, but her mouth is twisted as she gnaws on the inside of her cheek. On second notice, I don’t see the light in her eyes like she’s high on life when she’s looking at me. Concern is more prevalent in her furrowed brow.
This feels invasive, like something she wouldn’t want me to see. Real. Raw. Honest. Having seen this side of her reflects on me in guilt. Am I being too harsh? “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.” She angles toward me, a morphing of her body language as if she had momentarily lowered her armor and was caught with her guard down. She’s quick to rectify the situation, her shoulders straighter and head held higher. She doesn’t say anything, which is surprising, but I do. “I’ve not been myself the past few days.”
“We’ve not been ourselves in so long.” The wistfulness of her tone, the longing in her eyes, and the lowering of her arms, hanging without tension, leave little room for doubt. The release of a deep breath provides some relief, but entertaining the possibility of a past life shared with her lowers my guard around her.
What concerns me more is the fact that I had many opportunities to find the truth, but I chose to ignore those options. Do I need to hear it from her? Why would anything she says hold more weight than the internet, my friends, or even my assistant, Jocelyn? They would know. Granted, I would sound like a fool for asking them.
Hopefully, it won’t come to that.
Her usual energy has calmed as she approaches me.New angle? “Front or back,” she asks, taking the thermometer from me.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you want me to take your temp orally or . . .” She taps her head to the side twice like I’m supposed to understand. “Jesus, Warner.” She rolls her eyes as if I’m the one who took it too far.
“What the fuck? No, I don’t want it—” I snatch the thermometer back. “Just give it to me.” After shoving it under my tongue, I cross my arms over my chest and stand my ground, staring at her. There’s so much I want to say that she’s damn lucky I’m currently not allowed to speak.
In challenge, she crosses her arms over her chest again and stares back at me. Her blue eyes have a fire that blazes hot, and her lips are pouty and pink, so ripe and ready to be kissed. The rise and fall of her deepening breaths cause my eyes to travel lower to see nipples peaking under the maroon shirt.
My pulse quickens, desire for this pest of a woman a complete betrayal in my search for truth. But the swanlike curve of her neck is very tempting to suck enough to leave a mark on her like she’s already left on me.
I shift, letting her win this round of the stare off, so I can readjust in the sweatpants. When I turn back, she plucks the thermometer from my mouth and turns to walk away. “Let’s see what’s going on with you, Mr. Landers.”
Why is hearing her call me that such a fucking turn-on?
I don’t have a fever, so why did I even humor her? “What’s the verdict?”
“No fever,” she says, smiling. I’m almost convinced that she is happy for me.Almost.
She moves into the kitchen to set the glass stick down. Guess I’ll be washing that since she appears to have nointention of doing it. I will never understand how someone lives in chaos, much less by choice. Tugging at the hem of my shirt when I move around her, she doesn’t release it. “I’m hungry, Warner. Can we go out?”
A change of scenery, that’s what I need. Access to other people who know me well enough to know if I’m married. Time to put this matter to bed. “Great idea. I know just the place.” I head for the bedroom to change clothes with her hot on my heels. When I suddenly stop, she runs into my back. I turn to catch her rubbing her nose.
“Give a girl some warning next time.”
Inhale.Exhale.Inhale.Exhale.
“I meant to ask you.”
“What?” she asks, hanging on my every erratic breath. “What did you want to ask me?”
“Have you seen my phone?”
CHAPTER 11
Warner
“You could enter food-eating competitions.”I’m still in awe after watching Delaney devour that cheeseburger. I’ve never seen a woman eat a burger that fast. Must be the brother-stealing issue again. It’s unnerving and making me feel rushed. “Unless it’s fuel, food really should be enjoyed.”
She laughs, her gaze returning from outside the window to me sitting across from her at a dive bar around the corner from my office that always serves a good burger and cold beer. “This is fuel. Other than the bagel early this morning, I’ve only had a cookie. I was starving, and it was a really good burger.” I’m not drinking while on meds, but she’s washing her food down with a lager. When she sets the pint glass down on the table, she rubs her stomach. “I wish I had stayed in the leggings, though. These jeans have no give. Ugh.”
“Where did you get the cookie?”
Despite the complaints about tight denim that I didnotice look damn good on her, she picks up a wedge fry and taps her bottom lip with it. “A baker I know.”
I was never told where she went during the hours she was gone, and I didn’t feel it was my place to ask, especially after how we left things. When she returned, she never seemed mad, though I had been brusque with her during the earlier conversation. She came back and acted like it never happened. So I’m curious where she went to pick up her suitcase and which bakery she got this cookie from. I’d like any information I can get about her, since I’ve not been given much, and I’m not sure I can trust what I’ve been told. “I like cookies. What kind?”
“Double chocolate, but I took you more for a brownie man.”
